無限の雨

This post is intended to visualize my feeling.
Unfortunately, I am emotionless right now.

And I am thinking of walking in the rain.

"nemuri wa mayaku tohou ni kureta
kokoro o shizuka ni tokasu
mai agaru ai o odorasete
furueru karada o kioku no bara ni tsutsumu
I keep my love for you to myself"


あなたにとどまりたいと思う

お置いていかないで~

I am scared

"I'm scared to face another day,
Cos the fear in me just won't go away,
In an instant, you were gone and now I'm scared"
Duffy
I'm Scared


H, tell me you are scared too.


"It is good to be scared, because it means you still have something to lose"
Grey's Anatomy Season 4


At least, I still have our memories to cling on to.
H, it is never too late to feel scared.


Missing you,

Z A

Revelation - Revisited

I am a jerk. I never cry. Maybe right after I was 20. And for some indistinct points and reasons, I never leaked tears thereafter. I found there wasn’t any need for me to drip the liquid from my eye, for it never neither healed nor solved anything.

And I did break into tears just now. The images of the one I loved flashed in front of my eyes. It was unstoppable like a sequence of static photos being played on an old wrecked projector where everything was monochromatic. Not more than two colors. I saw the day I smeared the ice cream on his face, left him ‘chocolate’, a different color of what he normally looked like. And I was running on the meadow and he was chasing on the warm Sunday morning where the sun was never as bright as it was, dispersing a spectrum of wonderful colors from the droplet of the water at the tip of the green grass. And he tripped me on my feet where I stumbled and rolled and left the choc all over of my face and he hugged me from my back and laughed and kept on laughing.



It sounds so fantasy.

So happy where remorse was nothing more than a sulky look of mine.

Every second was a dose of ecstasy and every passing day was like hallucinating.

Life so impeccable I had no images of what did it look like if it was over.

But the reality was I happened to taste every single bit of it.

It wasn’t a flight of the imagination in the first place.


It was a dust of memory. There was a lot more to be reminisced. Like a series of numbers from 1 to a zillion. 1 being the first and the zillion was the very last fragment of memory I had with him. And one couldn’t argue that the former was the sweetest and the latter was the hardest.

For whatever reason, it was beyond my capacity to understand why every A has to be ended with a Z. Being shielded with his empathy and his love; lust didn’t exist in our diaries. I guessed there were no rules to turn everything ok. He was with his own stupid life and I was indulging mine. And we just knew that we were tied up together and that was what made us thrived, at least for more than a couple of years.

If you ever watched any movies and you saw two lovebirds sharing everything together and were so happy like there wasn’t no one else lived in this world, had you have any thoughts, how will it be ended? Be it a marriage, having children with a look of two of them, seeing those kids growing, possessing a girlfriend or a boyfriend, went home with excellent SAT scores, entered well renowned university, graduated, got hitched and left home, gave them grandkids and if god permits, they’ll live up to the point where breathing was nothing more than a struggle to get living and then died.

Where was the happy part in the end? His/her spouse died eventually and I presume that burying someone you loved wasn’t something enjoyable. There was no pleasure to the conclusion of a long winding story.


And so was my story. He did leave me. For no clear reason.


I guess love is nothing more than a journey of getting engaged in a relationship, taste it – if it is bitter, spit it out; if it is sweet, suck it to the last bit and SPIT IT OUT, eventually.

Find another one and suck again, up until your last breath where ending is nothing more than a mournful and gloomy day for someone that loves you.

Two cups of coffee and a sorbet

It was a silent night. It was only lights from the buildings afar that lifted up the mood of that night. Apart from that, the withering cold silence was killing. He wished he was at home on his couch watching Liverpool in the battle. He wished he could tell him to drive him home. The sorbet he made was perfect for two. Two cups of hot coffee and a sorbet. Not a perfect match. But fuck it. Hot coffee and a sorbet always could be best friends. They might. Who knew?

Reds, blast them to pieces.
He smiled.

Coffee and a sorbet? He loves coffee. I love mango sorbet. Perfect!
He smiled.

The lights were shimmering. The colors were soaring yet soothing. Soaring or soothing or the combination of both, or maybe he didn't feel it at all. It was awkward. They felt awkward. Like their first date. But their first date wasn't awkward, catastrophic was a perfect word.

He didn't want to recall.
He tried to ditch but the memory slipped. He giggled.
He watched him giggled.
He stopped.
He giggled.
He giggled.
They giggled.
The mood lifted up.
This wasn't like their first date at all.
This was like they never met and they never knew each other.
And this was like they had nothing to say.

Bugger. Why he chuckles?

Great. Why he giggles and doesn't speak a word? Has a cat got his tongue?

"Want to catch a ride home?"
"I'd love to"
"Come. Get up"

His hand clutched his. He pulled him hard. He pulled him back, harder. He smiled; he pulled him back, harder this time. Harder than what he could do. He smiled too. He didn't want to lose. Pulling him back toward him was a hefty job. He leaned and lied beside him. The coarsened sound of the dried leaves underneath them was harmonic.

"You sure want to go home? We'll have to walk. I drop the Beemer key", he grinned. His silhouette in the dark was magnificent.

I have a gorgeous boyfriend.

"I don't want to. It'll be days to reach home. We wait until tomorrow and we'll call a cab. Or maybe you'll find the key tomorrow", he whispered to his ears, smiling. His eyes were spectacular. His torso beefy. Strapping lad!

I have a gorgeous boyfriend.

Their lips interlocked.

I hope they don't screw up. They will not. I'm sure. But what if they do?
To hell with them. This is seven hundred thousand light years better than those goals. Four balls and a goal?. Ho ho ho.

I knew it. Coffee and sorbet are unsurprisingly good friends!

I just knew it!

Untitled

“Have you had in your mind who will be the last person that you want to see when you leas your last breath?” water splashed. Feet swirled to keep balance. Fish underneath.

“Probably amma. Or appa”, water swirled like a tiny tornado.

“I am tired”, water splashes a little less than before. Feet swirled to keep balance. A little less swirl. Fish underneath. A lot of them.

“Hold my hand”, water swirled like a baby tornado.

It was cold that night. A sheer disparaging cold night. So frosty they could see smog of steamy breath came to level with their eyes, blocking their almost blinded sight. Babuji had lost his count on how many days had he afloat in that open sea – the only thing he could recall was moon and sun obligatorily taking turn to light the surface of the Earth. But how many times, he would rather take it as zero.

Ooh forgive me stars for leaving you behind.

“Babuji, do you know how big our galaxy is?”

“I don’t really know”

“Have you ever heard of Milky Way?”

“Milky Way as in milk poured on a pavement?”

“Babuji, I'm sorry. I didn't tell you"

"Tell me what? You shake your cock in my loo?"

"I'm sorry"

"Shit"

"Haha. Babuji, how thick is your skin? I can't see you shivering. Babuji, I want to go home"

"Look at the stars up there. Have you imagined how lonely they are, staying apart million years away?"

"Let them be, we are not stars. Far from shining. Not even remotely glittering"

"Babuji knows. Babuji wants you not to think about what mess we are in right now"

"I miss amma. I miss appa. Babuji please don't die"

I Am Hated Mercilessly

Let me recap what have I gone through these couple of days. Like imminent ejaculation of an obstructed flow of semen. Or anything like that. Because never in my life I experienced such occurence.

Any man would like to clarify how does it feel like in the moment it happen?

Worry not, I am no pervert. Curiosity drives I might say.



I am hated, mercilessly. Like a cat in the drain.
Or like pouring rain over a long-lost sunny day at Brentwood.

All and all, I am mellow inside and outside. Suffice to say my little heart hurts easily.

Please, do not break me.

Conglomerate That Sucks Out Happiness

It is the time of the year when the People will lean back on their couch, thinking of something new, something rare in their life, or something completely different of what they have right now. Perhaps, the People here are no rarer than what the other People in different part of the world. It is not about the job that matters, or the burden they have to carry, or the constant nagging from an unhappy Bos, or continuous ruthless calls that break the serenity of the People's Sunday morning.

The People say, they have been taught to at least be prepared to accept these kind of things when they entered here, the Conglomerate. So, on and off, they know that this is the life they will pursue, say for the next 2 or 3 years. But the People always being driven by skyrocketting adrenaline and pure hopes that the Conglomerate will be more transluscent and (or at least) thankful for what they have done to make the Conglomerate as one of the top nothchers in this sweat squeezing industry.

But for the past few years, for the People that have been working more than a decade, for the People that have been producing children here in the Conglomerate vicinity, they smell something fishy. The rotten one, as what Che Det says in his blog. They can see the road that was clearly straight at the very beginning, now become crook at the middle.

So, there you go the profound unhappiness in the People's faces. The Riot they thought could amend the crooky Road for the better side of the Conglomerate legacies. Or maybe a little repair for the potholes on the Road, so they won't have a bumpy ride to the end.

But the Conglomerate thinks, the Riot was way too extreme. They have told the People that not to hope too much for something that is uncertain. We are not stupid, the People said, in counter attack for the annoyed looks of the Bigs.

And the Bigs savoring huge cash overflowing in their account but should the People blame them for lavishly living like no one's business? The People never argue that because the People have the rationale that the Bigs have been working so hard to climb to the post they comfortably sit right now. But the People ask a little sympathy from you Conglomerate, the People's Big says.


We can't. We are having a huge financial crisis and we don't make that much.

How much is not much, my dear Conglomerate?

Not much enough to feed our Bigs in the Foreign.


So the People thought the Conglomerate thinks no more about the People's affair. So, why don't the People look for something else. Another Conglomerate that can give them, at least a better pay for the People's children to grow up.

And the season when the People are leaving, comes like a surge of an electric shock to the Bigs. And the People are leaving with dignity on their sleeves, with a little pay of an advancement of their resignation.

And the Bigs see that as a mere nightmare. Now the People are not here anymore. The Conglomerate goes haywire with a harsh vibration on its ground. Who they will ask again to wet their hands with slimy grease anymore. To who they will assign to ride the chopper and land on the Rude's platform?

The Conglomerate says they will find a new batch of the People. And the will make sure that the new People are called the New People.

Albeit with the People or the New People, the Conglomerate stays being prolific in their quest to squeeze the juicy brain of the people that coming in.

So much to be called as Conglomerate That Sucks Out Happiness.




Remotely thinking of the Bigs,
The Person of The People